Mamihlapinatapai
by Specificitydarling
Summary: Mamihlapinatapai - a look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start. The word is from the Yaghan language. Bren POV - last scene of 5x05.


Mamihlapinatapai - a look shared by two people with each wishing that the other will initiate something that both desire but which neither one wants to start. The word is from the Yaghan language.

I found this word and definition on a randon blog and couldn't believe how perfect it was for BB!! I just had to write something, and though I'm not 100% pleased, this is what I got. it is also very unedited please forgive me :)

Please let me know what you think! x

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As he stepped closer all she could think about was that one time he told her that the eyes were the windows to the soul. She had disagreed, shaking her head vehemently, the eyes were not windows and the soul did not exist. He laughed, and she stole some of his food and they had moved on.

Or time had moved on. She sometimes felt like they were still stuck in limbo; not yet identified, but definitely not neglected.

She wondered if her eyes spoke to him as much as his spoke to her. She did not believe in the soul, but whatever Booth gave away through his piercing brown eyes was sacred. In a completely secular kind of way.

But he looked at her in that way, and spoke to her in that voice. And she wondered what it meant. Sometimes she was sure she knew, but he would laugh, or she would get nervous or someone would interrupt and she was left wishing for more time.

Then he took another step closer and she stopped thinking. At least in her logical pragmatic sense of thinking. Incomplete sentences ran through her head. Unanswered question. They were still conversing, that she was aware of. But while she kept up verbally, her eyes and her mind focused solely on his eyes. And his lips, which she realised, were very very close.

She wondered for a moment, and with a flash of a memory, she realised she knew what he tasted like. Wanting to shake her head, she willed the though from her head. But she stayed perfect still, because to break that contact they had would have ruined everything.

To break the distance, on the other hand, was something she was thinking about. She was aware of her own feelings. Aware that they existed. But their interpretation was another matter and the only person who could talk her through them was on the other side of the inch between them. His breath smelt like the mint he had popped in his mouth not two minutes ago and the glass of champagne he drank when they got there.

He on the other hand, was conflicted in a way she could not understand. She had not been oblivious to his change in behaviour since his return. His emphasis on their connection, his slipped endearments. But to say it had been his dream was absurd, he'd been this way long before that. Maybe a little subtler, It had always been there. Just as he had.

Lists formed in her minds; pros and cons. She evaluated the situation, while doubt set it. This was a social setting, to her it was practically guesswork. What if she was wrong? It would be worse than going out with Andrew. It would be worse than spilling secrets. She knew Booth, but she was afraid that if she let herself know him in that way, she could never return to being just partners. Booth was not ephemeral.

She would leave it up to him. He wants to take charge, let him. The ball was in his court and she would gladly take what he gave.

For now, his eyes spoke a mysterious familiar language. One she had nearly decoded. But then a sound, a voice, a noise that wasn't his or hers echoed against the ancient mummies. She sighed, silently, subtly. He did the same and her breath hitched, less subtly.

He looked at her differently now. A different soul? She thought what he would say on the matter. But before she could say anything, her hands reached out to fix his bowtie. Her fingers grazed, accidentally but willingly, against his neck, just under his jaw.

He returned the favour, pushing her hair away from her face. His touch was light and gentle. The way he often touched, not like she was fragile but like she was special. Like she was too exceptional to be broken. When she thought about it, that's the way he looked at her too. Claiming her safety with every glance.

She waited. He waited. They both waited, had been waiting. She was the patient one, she would not break. Until she broke for him.


End file.
